Depth of Despair
by Catherine
Summary: Ben's feeling a bit blue one night...


Disclaimer: Blue Heelers is owned by Southern Star and Channel Seven. The characters are ficticious and not my own, I claim no money or links with either of the above. I like the show. Treat it as flattery. Ok?

Archival: Anywhere that wants it. Just ask me so I can make up a weird nickname. :)

Credits: The song is by the Beegees ( I think). And also to that guy who sang it at the Opera House a while back. :p

# DEPTH OF DESPAIR

** **

By anyone's standards, tonight could be claimed as the worst night for years in the district. The old timers speak of it with awe in their voices afterwards, stating in loud tremulous voices that it beat the storm of '46 without a doubt. Sure, this storm didn't blow rooves off houses with a single burst leaving families to quake at the empty sky as their dreams floated away…but there was something about it; an eeriness that seemed to shadow them all, hush the regulars at the Imperial into a rare silence. Everyone felt it, none more so than Ben Stewart.

It began as a regular winter night in Mt Thomas; the rain began to hit the ground as soon as night fell. By now, it was a familiar, comforting rhythm that lulled the locals into a false sense of security. The rain fell, the crops would grow and they'd get a nice fat paycheck at the end of the year. So what if you got drenched walking from your car into the pub? It would all be worth it by summer.

Ben slammed into the door of the watch house, after running that little too fast to avoid the rain (after all, he was a city slicker at heart), then skidding on the wet concrete in his boots polished within an inch of his life. He swore quietly under his breath. No good to swear aloud in this town, someone would hear him and complain to the boss. His business was everyone else's for discussion- he hated that, he *hated* it! Well, the gossipmongers had plenty to discuss about him, they could whisper with an arched eyebrow that he'd got passed over for sergeant- //by a girl!// They could speak about how his wife had left him, why his daughter wouldn't face reality and lived in a fairy world, how he'd been demoted from the real detective job he loved in the city to end up here in the sticks. A country copper with nothing going for him. And now his personal life (or lack of it) was on display too… Fumbling with his keys, he eventually got the temperamental lock to open and walked inside. //What for,// he thought bitterly. //It's not like there's anything to come home to.//

The rain beat harder on the tin roof, a rhythmic slam-slam that drove into his brain relentlessly, saying the same word over and over again…Ben scowled, holding his hands to his temples to try and halt the relentless phrase turning over and over in his head. //Good lord, make it stop goddamn you! Please, for my sanity…// He looked around the room, trying to find a suitable diversion. Stereo. Music. Noise. Great choice. A man possessed, he leapt across the room, hitting play. The long mournful notes echoed through the hollow room:

//'Life going nowhere, somebody help me…somebody help me please…'//

Groaning, (he couldn't have picked a better song to reiterate his meaningless life if he tried) he sloppily poured a long glass of- something, ah, Mt Thomas Estate 1999 red into the glass in the hand. Detached, he noticed it was shaking. This was getting to him, the rain, the boredom, the feeling of failure…//Relax, get over it.//

Ben sat, drinking and trying desperately not to think. But as the wind began to howl through the gaps in the windows, and hail furiously tried to destroy his roof, a single word escaped his lips. "Maggie…" Why? Why did she have to leave him? For PJ? For another life? Why did she have to have such a screwed up family? Why did she have to die? After all, she was destined to be his- they both knew that. It was like she was calling to him through this terrible storm-but saying what? Nothing would change the fact that she was dead; the pain was almost physical.

Looking down, Ben saw the crushed fragments of the glass in his hand. The red wine stinging the cuts and mixing with the blood running down his palm. Grief coming all at once, the tears began to run down his face. Why was his life such a mess?

FINIS


End file.
